


silver and exact

by lovebeyondmeasure



Category: Tales of the Five Hundred Kingdoms - Mercedes Lackey
Genre: Agender Character, Ensemble Cast, Gen, Magic Mirrors, POV First Person
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-16
Updated: 2019-12-16
Packaged: 2021-02-26 02:01:18
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,783
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21815572
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lovebeyondmeasure/pseuds/lovebeyondmeasure
Summary: If I ever had a name, Before, I have long since forgotten it; I have been inside this mirror for centuries now. There was a time Before, which I know because any of us without parents here had a Before-time, but I have been here for too long for that to matter now.
Comments: 6
Kudos: 18
Collections: Yuletide 2019





	silver and exact

**Author's Note:**

  * For [NYCScribbler](https://archiveofourown.org/users/NYCScribbler/gifts).



> This was a joy to write! I hope you enjoy my cast of characters, NYCScribbler.
> 
> Credits go to [@neuralnames](https://twitter.com/neuralnames?lang=en) on twitter for some of the names and name inspo, and my friend Katherine for invaluable feedback and support.
> 
> Title from [Mirror, by Sylvia Plath.](https://allpoetry.com/poem/8498499-Mirror-by-Sylvia-Plath)
>
>>   
> I am silver and exact. I have no preconceptions.  
> Whatever I see I swallow immediately  
> Just as it is, unmisted by love or dislike.  
> I am not cruel, only truthful‚  
> The eye of a little god, four-cornered.  
> 

If I ever had a name, Before, I have long since forgotten it; I have been inside this mirror for centuries now. There was a time Before, which I know because any of us without parents here had a Before-time, but I have been here for too long for that to matter now.

If I had a gender, I have forgotten that too; I have given myself a face that suits me, entirely apart from the constraints and freedoms inherent to the entire business. I modeled it after a Fae courtier who dallied with a true Faerie Godmother I served once upon a time. They were beautiful in that austere way of the Fair Folk, and had a sense of humor I can recall even now. 

Of course I could recall them in my mirror, if I so desired. I could watch anything at all, from any time in the past. I have known mirror-folk to become so lost in the past that they detach entirely, become lost in the green fog of the mirror-side of the world. They desire things long forgotten, lives and loves that they’ve lost; I think it is better to live in the here-and-now, because we cannot change the past. 

Perhaps I have served too many Godmothers who are inclined to steer the Tradition to their desires; I am no longer inclined to merely observe, after my long life here in my mirror. I believe it is my calling to help those who would shape the world into a better, kinder place. It is not a life of great acclaim, but I am humble, myself.

I’m being rude, aren’t I? I once had lovely manners, when I served Godmother Emilya. She was a stickler for manners, because she said that manners were how you might tell a Prince from a pig-boy, and if one had the manners of the other, then you know which direction the Tradition was heading.

That doesn’t matter now, of course, but it’s good advice all the same. My name, inasmuch as I have a name, is Rinne; but I have gone by many names, adapting to my circumstances, as one must. And often enough, I have no name at all, and am but a tiny note in the story, if I appear at all, which I often do not. 

I remember once, when I was thrust into the hands of a rather desperate Princess… 

“Dorenda, you must remember to breathe,” Godmother Rosamina said firmly. “Go ahead, ask for her, then.”

“Mirror,” Princess Dorenda said, her voice faint. “Mirror, please show me the one who I love most of all.”

I did not show my face, but looked into her heart to find who she meant, and I sought her out at once. I made a mistake, though, and did not pause to see what her dear one was _doing_ at the moment… which was perhaps the sort of intimate thing one would prefer to go unwitnessed by their mother.

“No,” the Princess cried out, and her voice was filled with sorrow and horror such to break even the heart of a being who does not possess one. “No, my darling, no!”

The Godmother came into view behind Dorenda, touching her shoulder ever so softly. I quickly cloaked the scene from their view.

“My dear,” Rosamina said gently, “is it entirely normal for a girl to leave her mother eventually.”

“But to love _him!_ ” Dorenda cried out. “I know that she was to leave me eventually, but I meant to find her a good man, a kind and gentle one. And she has gone and chosen the child of the man who was so cruel to me! The son of my most hated enemy! Anyone, _anyone_ would be preferable to him!”

I came into view, gesturing to the Godmother; the coils of the Tradition were wrapping themselves about the stricken Dorenda, her wayward daughter, and the girl’s lover all, and there was no happy ending for them that I could see. 

“Dorenda, my dear,” Rosamina said, pulling her to sit on a settee. “You mustn’t say such things. Of course you’re upset that your daughter is growing up and leaving you, but you must admit that this is an advantageous match. And it is my belief that the lad does truly love your girl. Come, look into the mirror, let me show you.”

I was better with my cue this time; I brought up an image from the previous week, in which Dorenda’s daughter walked arm-in-arm with her lover, and the lad presented her with a rose. It would take a fool to miss the utterly besotted expressions on both their faces; the Star-Crossed Lovers path was deeply Traditional, and had taken them both by the throat. 

The Godmother and I were there to try to un-Cross their Stars, and Dorenda was only the first step in doing so. 

I pulled up another image, one that made Princess Dorenda’s breath catch in her throat. Her daughter, leaning out her palace window, as the girl’s lover declaimed some paen to her beauty. It was a pretty picture, if I do say so myself, clear and bright with stars, the yearning on their faces plain to see.

“Perhaps, if you know that he loves her truly…” Dorenda said, setting my mirror down on her lap. Rosamina knew that this was her opening, and she took it.

In the end, we saved those poor children, and their marriage united those Kingdoms. A well-spun story, and the world better for it. The Godmother, Rosamina, was the Periwinkle Fairy, for she said that no one whose name includes “Rose” should habitually garb themselves in shades or red or pink. I was with her nearly her entire tenure; indeed, I was the one who brought her to the attention of the Godmother who trained her. I remember… 

“Godmother,” I said, fading into view on the mirror she had hung on the wall for me. Godmother Evanne looked up from her book. 

“Yes, Rinne?” she replied. I always liked Evanne for calling me by name.

“You asked me to alert you to any new stories occuring in Corrich,” I said. 

“Ah,” Godmother Evanne said, setting her book aside to come over to me. “And you’ve found one.”

I nodded, and brought Rosamina into view. “The girl’s name is Rosamina, Godmother,” I said, and laughed at the look on her face.

“The Tradition does love its Rose names, doesn’t it,” she muttered. “Is she to be a Fair Rosalinda, then?”

“Perhaps,” I said. “She is very beautiful, but I’m not entirely certain what her story is shaping to be. But she’s awash in magic, and she’s coming up on her sixteenth birthday.”

“Of course she is,” Evanne said. Her broad dark face was expressive, and I enjoyed watching her think through problems.

“Rinne, are you absolutely positive that this girl is about to be swept up in a story?” she asked me eventually. I could tell that she was hoping for a no.

“I am as certain of this as I am of anything, short of mathematics or True Love’s Kiss,” I said, echoing a favorite saying of one of Evanne’s predecessors. 

“Well then,” she said, “I had better put on that daft getup and go meet her. Rinne, would you be so good as to let one of the Brownies know that I will need a proper Godmotherly staff?”

“One of the ones with the star on top?” I asked, mostly to watch her wrinkle her nose. Godmother Evanne wasn’t an especially froofy sort.

“I suppose so,” she sighed. “Thank you, Rinne. I appreciate your hard work.”

I watched that evening when she went to Rosamina’s cottage, appearing by way of an All Paths Are One spell in a cloud of glitters. 

“Goodness gracious,” Rosamina said, clutching at her heart. “Are you a fairy?”

“Only as much as I am your Fairy Godmother, my dear,” Evanne said, smiling graciously. “Won’t you invite me inside?”

Rosamina bit her lip. “Would you mind terribly if I didn’t? It’s only that my father is quite ill, and he’s only just gotten to sleep.”

“And you mother, dear child?” Evanne asked.

“She’s been dead these past eight years,” Rosamina said, dipping her head in a gesture of piety. “I miss her, of course, but we all must persevere.”

“Indeed we must,” the Godmother said. “In that case, shall we sit here on this garden wall of convenient height? I have many questions for you, my dear, and the hour marches later. I’m sure you need your rest.”

That night, Godmother Evanne established that Rosamina was indeed heading directly into a very Traditional tragedy: beautiful young orphan with no one to care for her, swept up by a philandering Prince and set up as a mistress, only to be killed by the Princess in a fit of jealousy. Whether her bones and hair would be used to construct an instrument was unclear, but even the suggestion of it was upsetting for Rosamina to hear of. Well, and so it should be, considering it was her hair and bones in question.

“I’m to be a _what,_ ” Rosamina asked. 

“A Fair Rosalinda, although you may know the tale by a different name. But fret not, it’s not set in stone, my dear,” Evanna said kindly. All Godmothers I have served have learned this tone of voice after a certain amount of time; a gentle but firm tone that helps forestall bouts of hysterics. 

“What other options do I have?” Rosamina asked. “For that doesn’t appeal to me one bit.”

“I can siphon away the magic that would cause this,” Evanne offered. She always offered this first, because the majority of people at their heart would prefer to be ordinary than to be the stars of a tragedy. “You would be entirely ordinary, free to live your life just as you have lived it without interference.”

Rosamina narrowed her eyes. “And do I have any other options?” she asked. “I do not think that is your only recourse. You’re a Fairy Godmother, can’t you magic the Prince into ignoring me, or… or give me slippers of gold, or some such thing?”

Evanne smiled. “I cannot reverse your story, Rosamina. But if you should wish, I can take you away with me. I’ve been seeking an apprentice, you see.”

“An apprentice?” Rosamina said faintly. “To be… a Fairy?”

“Not precisely,” Evanne said. “I am not one of the Fair Folk. They allow us to use their name as a courtesy title, because the first Godmothers were indeed Fae, but I am as mortal as you.”

“You want to teach me… to be a Fairy Godmother,” Rosamina said. “ _Me?_

“In essence, yes,” Evanne replied. “If you’re not well suited to it, you can always leave. Many apprentices find that it’s not what they’re well suited to do, and go off to become White Witches, Sorceresses, and other such magic workers, or even simply use up their magic to live an ordinary life. It’s not the sort of thing that someone can do without being entirely committed to the life and the work, you see.”

Rosamina considered it. “No,” she said finally, with no small regret. “Thank you, Godmother, but I have to decline.”

“May I ask why?” Evanne asked. I could see her disappointment. Rosamina was by far the best candidate to come from any of her Kingdoms in a long few years, and all Godmothers know that to be without an apprentice is to invite tragedy. 

“I cannot leave my father,” Rosamina said. “If I were to leave him now, he would be all alone, with no one to care for him. Will you take away my magic, so I might be able to do my duty to him safely?”

“I can,” Evanne said, “and more than that, I will leave you a way to contact me, in case you feel the pressure of the magic again. Do you know what I mean, that weight that seems to press down on you? As though you’re being viewed from afar?”

“Yes,” Rosamina said. “I do, actually. I thought it was…” She blushed. “I thought it might have been my mother, watching over me.”

“That’s a lovely thought,” Evanne said. “I’m sure she is watching over you as well. But that pressure, that is the magic, trying to enact the tale on you. When you feel it, call for me, and I’ll come help you.”

Rosamina nodded, accepting the small hand-mirror from the Godmother. I would be monitoring that, with some small part of my mind, and if she were to call for aid it would alert me much like a bell being rung. 

“More than that, Rosamina,” Evanne said. “My offer will not expire. If, in the future, you find you would like to come and learn from me, I will not turn you away.”

I knew that Evanne would not bring up Rosamina’s father’s death, though it was on both their minds. To speak of it as a deadline would be to bring it to the attention of the Tradition, and Evanne would never do that. 

Rosamina called on Godmother Evanne twice before her father passed peacefully away. And after he had been buried, she called once more, to finally accept Evanne’s offer. That was the first time I appeared to her in person. Well, so to speak. 

I can still see the startlement on her young face, as clearly as I can see the smile on her older face when she handed over the burden of her Kingdoms to her own successor. 

“How will I know what to do?”

“My darling, what do you think I’ve been training you for?” Rosamina said, touching her apprentice’s face tenderly. “You are more than ready, Vivica, and I have every faith in you.”

Vivica reach up to wrap her own golden hands around Rosamina’s pale ones. “But how can you be sure?”

“There is nothing sure in this world…” Rosamina started.

“...except mathematics and True Love’s Kiss,” Vivica finished.

“There, you see? You’ll be fine, darling. Plus, you have the library, the Brownies, and Rinne. You’re well-equipped and well-trained, if I do say so myself. You’ll be fine.”

“Will you come back to visit?” Vivica asked, hopefully. I have rarely seen a bond as deep and loving as between Rosamina and Vivica, in all my many years. 

“Perhaps,” Rosamina said. “But not for a while, because otherwise it will be far too easy to resume our roles. But I will write you, and check in on you from time to time.”

“I’ll miss you, Godmother,” Vivica said, and her voice was thick with tears as yet unshed.

“And I you, my darling,” Rosamina said, similarly affected by her apprentice’s graduation. “But you are the Godmother now, not I. And I promise you, this is far preferable to my own ascendance to the title. You are going to be wonderful, Vivica. I wish you every happiness.”

Rosamina kissed her successor on both cheeks and on her forehead before stepping away. A cart was waiting for her, pulled by one of those many sons of the Winds. 

“Goodbye, Godmother,” Vivica said as Rosamina settled into the seat.

“Farewell, Godmother,” Rosamina replied, and was gone. I would not reveal to Vivica where Rosamina had gone, despite knowing; she was enjoying her retirement, traveling to visit the many friends she had made over her long tenure in the role. Princes and Princesses who had grown up to be wise Kings and kind Queens, giants and dragons, shepherds and hedgewitches… Rosamina always did love to travel.

And she was correct, you know. Vivica is a wonderful Godmother. She’s Godmothering even now, to more than thirteen kingdoms, and it’s looking like she might end up with another, with a civil war brewing in Enwald. Godmothers can only do so much, you know, against the weight of the Tradition.

Mirror-folk cannot see the future, but we watch, and we learn, and I have been watching and learning for a very long time now. There are some patterns that repeat, over and over, for people are often predictable in their actions and reactions. 

Of course, things could change. Perhaps a horse will throw a shoe and as a result the country will stay whole. Perhaps a Godmother will drop the right advice in the right ears to bring about a reconciliation. Perhaps the right people will fall in love and marry and reunite the warring factions. I cannot know the future, only the past and the present. There is nothing certain, after all, except for mathematics, and True Love’s Kiss.


End file.
